


Missing Knight

by lillpon



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Chess, Feels, Gen, Mentions of flashbacks, mentions of trauma, one veeery slight mention of teen molestation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 10:49:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12386583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lillpon/pseuds/lillpon
Summary: Sort-of speculative fic about Detective Rogers meeting the girl who, unbeknownst to him, is his own daughter.





	Missing Knight

Rogers slumped down on his chair. The adrenaline and excitement of the whole day were starting to take their toll on him, and he felt his limbs turn heavy as lead even if his mind was full of thoughts.

He’d found the girl. Miranda Jones. She was safe, unhurt, and from what he could tell, not terribly traumatized by her experience. Of course, only time could tell, but the fact that she was cooperating with them - mostly - was a good sign.

For the moment.

He looked at her - light brown hair and blue eyes that hadn’t stopped staring at him since he’d entered the room she had been sleeping in, announcing her that she was free.

She’d run in his arms and held him so tight his breath was caught for a moment. Then she’d pulled away, tears running down her face and had looked at him.

He had saved people in the past, but that look in the girl’s eyes he would never forget.

Or how it had changed to an expression of sorrow once he’d tried to comfort her.

“It’s alright, you’re safe now. We’re getting you out of here.”

Pushing himself to forget the devastation on her face, he looked down at the papers in front of him.

“Look, dear. We really want to help you. Please, tell us the name of your parents.”

“Why do you insist so much on that?” she quipped. “Aren’t you the one who had been searching for me all this time?”

He swallowed hard. The excitement of having found her was slowly being replaced by the feeling of failure he’d been facing for the past eight years.

He simply nodded.

“Then you know that I’m over eighteen, and that I can leave without you calling my parents or the social services.”

“You’re  _just_ over eighteen. Look, if there’s something wrong going back at home…”

“There’s not.”

Rogers sighed. “I just want to help you. It’s really not wise for you to leave on your own after all of this. Do you have any friends, or other family, that could pick you up? I can take you there with the cruiser.”

“You want to help me?” she said, her voice softer and her eyes almost wide.

“Yes.”

“Can I stay with you? Just for tonight, and then I can go.”

He hesitated. “It’s not really my-”

“ _Please_ ,” she interrupted him. She leaned forward a little, still clutching onto the blanket the paramedics had provided for her. “Just for one night.”

He swallowed hard again. She clearly was in need of some company right now, but he doubted a mess like him would be the ideal one, especially for her case. “Fine. But then you’ll allow me to help.”

She nodded and a small smile appeared on her lips.

* * *

He took note of the fact that not once during the whole time sitting next to him did she stare at his prosthetic. He walked her to his car and she refused to let him open her door, just slipped inside.

The few seconds it took him to walk around the car and sit on the driver’s seat probably seemed too long for her. Once he sat down she burst in sobs.

“Miranda? Are you having a flashback?”

“What?” she said weakly and turned to him. “No… no.”

He wondered for a moment if she even knew what flashbacks were, or that what she might have even had a name. “Okay, listen to me. Can I touch your hand?”

As soon as he’d said it, her hand flew and grabbed his in a tight grip.

“You’re safe now,” he said. “It’s over. We can protect you, okay?”

She nodded, her sobs starting to take her over so she couldn’t speak.

“Hey, come here.” He tugged just a little at her hand, but she immediately leaned over to let him wrap his arms around her. She cried on his shoulder as he whispered soft ‘You’re safe’s to her.

It felt almost natural, hugging her. He felt such a great want to protect her and he didn’t care that she didn’t pull away from his arms even after she’d calmed down.

“I’m so sorry,” she said after the sobs had stopped.

“There’s no need to feel sorry.” None seemed to feel awkward in their hug, but he forced himself to remember that she was just an 18-year-old who probably had a lot of issues and even if he  _knew_ that nothing was going to happen between them, he also knew that rumours wouldn’t take a lot to spread.

The beat cop who was promoted to detective without being worthy of it and then molested a troubled 18-year-old…

He shivered at the thought and nudged her a little, indicating to her that they should pull away.

She had the same devastated face she had when she first saw him, even down to the tears and red eyes, for the whole ride to his place.

* * *

All things in his life considered, he was happy to have a place he’d decorated on his own and kept perfectly clean. It never actually felt like home, but it was his and that had to do.

“It’s a small place. I don’t have any guest rooms, so could you give me some minutes to put some new sheets on my bed?”

“Why?”

“Uh- well, you’ll sleep there and it’s only dignified I put some clean sheets for you…”

“You’ll sleep on that couch?”

It wasn’t comfortable, yes, but it wouldn’t be the first time.

“I’ve slept in some pretty bad beds the past eight years,” she added.

“Exactly,” he said and looked her in the eye. “Now, the bathroom is over here, I’ll leave some towels on the bed as well, but for now you can use it… Fridge is over there, I suggest you not touch the pasta, they’ve been in there for some days, but you can eat from anything else… Uh… I’ll bring some decent breakfast tomorrow morning, is there something special you’d like?”

She sighed softly and hugged him again. For a moment, he wished he was able to do this any time she felt upset, as if two simple arms could protect her.

Then that moment was gone, and he pulled away. He didn’t look at her face as he walked to his room to prepare her bed.

“Your decorations are really nice,” she said a few minutes later, entering the room.

“Thank you.”

“A lot of nautical stuff. Are you a sailor?”

“Me?” He snorted. “No. I only learned how to swim for the academy. I just… I don’t know, I like the style.”

“I know I’ve been a pain in the ass…” she said softly.

“You haven’t. I do want to help you.” He turned towards her as he finished the preparation. “What can I do for you?”

She opened her mouth to speak and looked at him with… adoration? And not the fake kind some would throw at him after complimenting his looks. No-one had looked at him like that in  _ages_. She eventually closed her mouth and dropped her gaze.

“Thank you, anyway, for everything.”

He nodded. “Glad I can help.” He wanted to snort at himself. Normally, he would say “Glad to be of service.” That’s what he vowed for anyway…

He mentally shook himself. “Goodnight. If there’s anything you need, literally,  _anything_ , just wake me up. I’m a light sleeper so you won’t have a problem.”

“Yeah,” she said with an almost bright smile. It disappeared immediately, as if she had realized she’d done something wrong. “Goodnight,” she whispered.

* * *

He was bone-deep exhausted. Over the past few weeks the clues had been coming and coming, and he had no idea how much he’d managed to sleep during the time. He nearly collapsed on the couch the moment he changed into his pyjamas, yet his mind wouldn’t stop.

Eight bloody years. Searching, reaching dead ends, failing, doubting himself, fearing for the girl, and it was over.

He couldn’t believe it and the excitement that it was all over came back, and he just stayed there looking at the floor like a buffoon, unable to sleep.

At some point well after midnight, he heard soft steps coming from his bedroom. Miranda appeared at the corner facing the couch and glanced at him.

“Can’t sleep either?” he said.

“Nope. I guess it was a big day for both of us.”

“Hmm,” he said as he awkwardly raised himself on his elbows. “Do you wanna talk?”

“Uhm… not really. I wanted to ask you something.”

“Anything.”

“Do you… by any chance… have a chess board?”

* * *

“Sorry for the mess,” he said after taking off another box from the cupboard, finally able to reach the chess set. “I haven’t played in years.”

“It’s alright. And I’m sorry I’m making you play a mind game at two in the morning.”

“Eh, perhaps it will actually help me sleep. There. Take it.”

He turned to her, awkwardly passing the set over to her in his effort to hide his stump. He still noted that she hadn’t once glanced at it.

“I don’t even remember how or when it happened, but the set is missing a white knight. I’ve replaced it with the first random game piece I found and then never bothered to…” He drifted off when he noticed the look on her face. He could swear it was surprised, happily at that.

“Will that do?” She put her hand in her pocket and took out a white knight piece.

“Bloody hell,” he whispered and took the piece from her hand. It couldn’t be…

He opened the box and checked the remaining knight piece. They were  _identical_. Hers was a little more worn out, of course, a few insignificant scratches here and there, along with a thinner felt at the bottom, but other than that, they looked like they belonged in the same set.

“Wow. What were the chances?” He laughed, but noticed as a sad smile grazed her face. “Do you wanna take the whites?”

“Uh, can I take the blacks?”

He shrugged. It was just a game.

The very first pieces she dug out of the box were the two black rooks. She took a closer look at them and smiled softly.

“This one is a little worn out too, like my knight.” Her smile was heard in her voice, and he couldn’t help feel a little lighter with the sound.

“Yes… I think it had fallen off once and by the time I found it it looked a little, well, worn out.”

She nodded, closing her fists around the pieces before she put them in their squares. She placed the rest of the pieces on her side with elegance and carefulness, always making sure the pieces were set at the exact center of each square. He watched with amazement as he did the exact same thing with his pieces.

“When was the last time you played?” she said.

“Oh, I can’t remember. I used to play a lot some years ago, but then I just suddenly… how about you?”

“One of the few luxuries I had in there was a small, plastic chess set. I played on my own to pass the time.” She was looking down at her side of the board.

“You knew how to play… before…?”

“Uh, yeah. My… my father taught me how to play.” Her eyes flickered towards her knight before looking up at him with tears in her eyes.

“Oh,” he said before he stood up and kneeled next to her, taking her hand in his. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”

She nodded, pursing her lips. “It’s okay. I just… he- he was… I really wish I could see him again, but I don’t know where or how…”

“I can help. I have the means to find someone quickly.”

_Like you did with her?_ , a small, painful voice reminded him.

“If you want me to help, of course.”

Miranda’s expressions were indeed peculiar. He had seen his fair share of victims, with various amounts of traumas and their obviousness, but he couldn’t understand why she was looking at him with such emotion - and why he felt that said emotion was welcome from him.

“Are you okay?” he said.

She closed her eyes, squeezed his hand and nodded. “Aye.”

He was a little stunned at her word choice. Had he used this word in front of her the whole day? He couldn’t remember.

Ignoring the feeling, he sat down on his chair again but she didn’t let go of his hand. He felt a small terror at the fact that he didn’t want her to.

_Bloody hell, no_. He was not getting invested. It was just a girl in desperate need for help and support, that was all. She’d find herself and move on and then they’d both forget about it.

“Uh… shall we play?” It was the only way he found would make her let go of his hand without directly asking for it. However she kept holding onto his hand absent-mindedly. He cleared his throat, catching her attention. She looked at him, then at his pieces, and waited as if he was just considering his first move. Then it hit her.

“Oh! Sorry,” she said as she yanked her hand away.

He smiled and moved a pawn.

As they were both tired, they were making slow and careless moves. The whole time he was trying to cover his stump with his sleeve, wanting to keep the sight away from her, but at one of his turns, as his hand was hovering above the queen and the bishop, contemplating his next move, he raised his stump to scratch behind his ear. He pulled it back mortified when he realized what he’d done.

But Miranda was still looking at his hovering hand, waiting for his move.

He kept his stump on his lap for the rest of the game, but didn’t try to cover it with the sleeve.

* * *

He didn’t know how much time had passed, he knew they were playing for a ridiculous amount of time considering the day they’d had, but at some point he realized he was being carried. By Miranda? There was no-one else there…

“We haven’t finished…” he murmured.

“S’okay, we’ll continue tomorrow.” She put him on the couch, a little gracelessly as he could barely stand on his feet from the exhaustion, but managed to cover him with his blanket.

Perhaps he was just falling asleep and floating towards dreaming.

He felt she was standing next to him for a few more moments, his hand in hers.

“I’ve missed you,” he heard from somewhere afar. And then someone kissed his cheek, before the feeling of her hand in his disappeared.

Oh, definitely a dream.

**Author's Note:**

> Just in case you’re wondering, at that moment in the bedroom where Miranda was going to ask Rogers for something but let it go, she was going to ask him to tuck her in.


End file.
